Standing In Your Silence
by PyroYoukai
Summary: “Hi,” he let out meekly. No answer, of course. [MileyOliver]


**A/N:** Second fic – really short. I feel pretty gloomy today, so excuse the depressing mood this may put you in. This was whipped up in a matter of fifteen minutes, so please excuse any grammatical errors.

Feel free to review in any way you wish. If you're confused at the end of the story, just read over again, and hopefully you'll comprehend what happened, and what's happening.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing Disney related.

_**Standing In Your Silence**_

He stepped into the room, and turned to face her, his heart heavy. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he neared her, his heart racing.

Silence dominated the room. The only sound heard was the ticking of the clock in the corner, as well as the shallow breaths he was taking in. He knew he couldn't take long, but he would much rather have spent forever in that room with her than be elsewhere. So, as a minute ticked by on the clock, he breathed in, and exhaled again, shuddering slightly.

"Hi," he let out meekly.

No answer, of course.

"It's me. Oliver," he said wiping the dark brown bangs out of his eyes. He brushed them back completely so nothing would obscure his vision. So that nothing would get in the way of seeing her face, and taking in this moment.

"I don't even know why they let me in here. It should be your dad or your brother, or Lilly, or something. Or maybe Jake," he let out a sad laugh, still frowning.

The only reply to his remark was the steady ticking of the clock.

"I just wanted to tell you about everything – the things I never got to tell you, you know? I know you can't hear my right now, but… I still hope you're listening somehow. I – I know that doesn't make any sense, but that's just me isn't it? Good old Oliver Oken, never making sense," he let out a small, sad, and nervous laugh, a jab at his heart felt when he remembered that she wouldn't open her eyes for him.

"I just wanted to say that… I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. I hate myself everyday for it. I hate myself for not being there for you," he said, taking deeper breaths. He felt his heart wilt as he spoke. "If I'd been there… you know I would've taken that bullet, somehow, some way. But – I got the guy, Miles. I got him after. I'm so sorry I couldn't have sooner," he said slowly, his voice trailing off into a whisper.

"But Jake could have protected you. He was right there. He was your fiancée, wasn't he?" he said, his brow furrowing, fists clenched tightly, his teeth grit together. He breathed in again to stop the tears that threatened to come.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be blaming you."

No reply.

"I just wanted to tell you… I've always wanted to be your hero, Miley. I liked saving you, and helping you when you needed me. I liked seeing that grateful smile on your face. It made me happy to see you smile. It made me feel like I actually had a purpose for being alive."

He stepped forward a little, so that he could see her face better.

"You don't know this, but," his voice was just above a whisper, "Jake and I had a small conversation before he proposed to you." A sad smile came to his face once again, as he stared down at hers. "I said – I told him – I – I made him promise that he'd be there for you always. That if he really loved you as much as he said, he would take care of you, even if it meant risking his own life."

He felt his eyes gloss over, so he wiped an oncoming tear away quickly.

"He lied, Miley. He lied to me."

Silence.

"I would've done all that I made him promise."

More silence.

"See… I'm here today because… I needed to tell you… things. Things I was going to tell you after your last concert. Well here I am, while you can't hear me. Sorry for taking so long."

He thrust his hands back into his jean pockets and looked down at his shoes, his bangs covering his face once again.

"The first time I saw you, I knew there was something. I couldn't stay away from you. It was just – there was just something about you. It wasn't that you looked liked Hannah Montana – just… I don't know. As we grew older, though, I realized, I never wanted to be away from you.

"I wanted to be with you always. By your side, doing whatever made you happy. But I let someone get to you before me, and I regret that. Jake took you away from me… but you were so happy with him. I didn't want you to be unhappy, so I kept on pretending like I was okay with everything. I kept pretending that I wasn't…"

His breath hitched in his throat, and he choked on his words as tears threatened to fall again. He stopped them with all his might, and instead let out a horribly hearty voice.

"… that I wasn't in love with you."

He looked up again, at her face. Her eyes remained shut, and she did not move.

"I loved you, Miley. I think I knew that I was going to, ever since the first time I saw you. And… even now… after you agreed to marry Jake… after you tore my heart apart without even knowing it… after you ended up with a man who would let _this_ happen to you…" rage filled his voice, as its volume increased at the last sentence.

"… I still do."

He reached out to touch her face. A face he'd once felt before… up against his own in a kiss for a dare back in their teen years… a face he'd touched once when they were forced to be together for a school play… a face he'd caressed gently when she fell asleep from crying after having her heart broken over again… It had been so warm in those days. So warm, soft, and velvety.

His fingers touched her skin, and he'd longed for the same feeling.

Instead he felt cold, soft, rubbery skin beneath his fingertips.

At this, tears sprung to his eyes and blurred his vision. He wiped them away, looking down at the woman he'd loved – the woman he'd be bound to in spirit for the rest of his life, whether he wanted to or not.

He wiped the tears away with an arm, his fingers shaking as they remained on her serene, motionless, face.

"I'll love you forever, and I don't think I'll ever be able to let you go," he said, his teeth grit as he fought more tears from coming.

"Mr. Oken," a man in a suit opened the door, and looked straight at him, just as he pulled his hand away.

Seeing his eyes red, as well as his tear stained cheeks, the man held a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry. Did you need more time to -?"

"No. I've said all that I needed to say," he said, taking another breath, gathering himself.

The man nodded.

"If you're sure," he said, walking over to where Miley lay in the center of the room. The room was filled pink roses – Miley's favorite flowers. "I know how hard it can be to say goodbye," the man said. He was rather young. He probably didn't know that the job was not to get involved with the clients.

Oliver shrugged, catching a last glance at Miley, his emotions run dry. He felt numb now, when seconds ago his heart has a burst of emotion.

"It's not hard if you don't try to," he said, his eyes blank.

The man only gave a nod and a sad half smile, turning back to Miley.

Oliver turned away as he left the man to his work.

He could not think anymore.

He could not feel.

He thought wouldn't feel again.

But, as he walked out the door, a sound had caused him to feel overwhelming sadness, his heart breaking once again, pain stabbing through him.

The casket had been closed.


End file.
